


The Sound of Silence

by queerfave



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Era, Heavy Angst, M/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 11:01:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11160525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerfave/pseuds/queerfave
Summary: In which Enjolras doesn’t realize his mistake, and in which Grantaire wakes too late.





	The Sound of Silence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theghostofenj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theghostofenj/gifts).



> A request by Anna_Rose17 on Tumblr:  
> "Ok darling how about some angst, because I want my heart broken. Maybe ExR, but one of them survives the barricade. Just imagine one of them seeing the other's lifeless body. I'll leave you to your work."

There is no sensation that can compare to the sound of silence. It is a different silence than lying awake at night, hearing the bustle of the people walking to and fro. It is a different silence than the morning, when the light streams in through the window and the birds chirp in the trees. It is a different silence than when the sun is shining, and you’re sitting on the grass with the one you love. No, this is a different silence. It is the silence of loss, of heartbreak, of despair. It is the silence that reeks of misfortune and misery, the silence with fear and loneliness. It is this silence in which you become surrounded when all your friends are dead, and you are alone. 

 

Enjolras sits against the wall of the Musain, weary. Blood trickles down his face from a wound on his face. His red jacket is stained with blood, some of which is his and some of which belongs to others. His eyes are closed. He can hear nothing outside the café, and around him are the bodies of his dead friends. Courfeyrac, the look in his eyes glassy and blank; Combeferre, face down in a pool of his own blood; and Grantaire lying on one of the tables, eyes closed. Enjolras blinks and allows a tear to stream down his cheek, washing away the dirt and the blood to create a single track. 

_ I’m the only one left.  _

_ I’m alone.  _

Enjolras gently stands up to regard his friends, covered in blood, dead fighting for a cause in which they had once believed. A cause in which Enjolras had once believed. His friends had given their lives for the freedom of the country that Enjolras loves. Enjolras was the sole survivor of the attack. 

_ Why should they have to die for my cause? _

_ Why should they have to die, and I have to live? Why am I the one to survive, the one the most willing to die? _

Enjolras crouches beside Courfeyrac’s body. He gently slides his arm around Courfeyrac’s waist and carries him to the line where they have arranged the bodies of those who have died. His body is laid down beside the bodies of his friends, and Enjolras folds Courfeyrac’s hands over his chest. He does the same with Combeferre. He continues to cry, the tears dripping down his cheeks, as he lays all of his dead friends in line. He then approaches the body of Grantaire. 

Grantaire’s body is different. He’s not coated in blood like all the others, and his eyes are closed. He genuinely looks like he is at peace. 

_ A strange, but fitting end for the cynic, _ thinks Enjolras. 

He gently takes Grantaire’s hand in his own. It’s still warm. He runs his fingers over the knuckles before closing his eyes again. The tears fall faster than before, dripping from Enjolras’ chin onto Grantaire’s hand. He takes a deep, shaking breath and lays down Grantaire’s hand. He reaches out to tuck a stray curl behind Grantaire’s ear, and he leans in and presses a kiss to his forehead. He stays in that position for a moment, resting his lips upon Grantaire’s skin. He slowly pulls away and moves Grantaire’s body to where the others lay. He takes one last look at his friends, all in a line; and at Grantaire, for whom a smile ghosts his lips faintly. 

“Rest in peace, mes amis.” The words are whispered from his lips, breaking the cold silence. 

He hears footsteps outside the café, and he climbs the stairs to the second floor quietly. The soldiers enter the café, and would have left immediately if not for the creak of the floorboards underneath Enjolras’ feet. He finally stands near the window, watching the city below them. He watches the broken barricade, where too many of his friends died. He sees the blood staining the cobblestone, and he sees the people peeking out of their windows to see if the commotion is over. He sees the city of Paris, and he sees his country, France. 

“Who is there?” Calls one of the soldiers. Enjolras doesn’t answer at first, but eventually he turns away from the window and allows the words to leave his lips. 

“French revolution.”

The soldiers hurry upstairs and arrange themselves so that Enjolras can’t escape. They point their guns towards him and for the first time that day, he feels a strange sense of calm. He bends down and picks up a red flag from the ground. Clutching it in his fist, he raises his arm above his head and closes his eyes in triumphant defeat. 

_ This way, I can see them again. This way, I can smile with Courfeyrac, and talk with Combeferre.  _

_ This way, I can perhaps hold Grantaire, and kiss him, and tell him everything I wanted to say to him while I was alive.  _

“Fire!” 

Enjolras is hit with bullets, but he doesn’t feel any pain. He allows the noise around him to fade to the sound of silence. 

 

There is no sensation comparable to waking up to the sound of silence. The drunk man’s lullaby is the commotion, the noise; and he wakes only when it is still, and the world is shrouded in darkness. That darkness is not a darkness of the sky, but a darkness of the soul; a mourning for a world that has died, and a mourning for those who have had their lives taken too soon. The drunk man will sleep through bullets, and the drunk man will sleep through the screams, but when the bullets have found their final resting place, and there is nobody to scream, that is when the drunk man awakes. 

It was in this state that Grantaire awoke from his drunken death, lying beside his blood-coated friends. His eyes blink open, and he finds himself on the ground, his hands crossed over his chest. He slowly sits up, glancing around to behold the bodies of his companions. His breath hitches as he sits in the silence, waiting for a sound, a sign that anyone else was alive. 

He stands up and his immediate instinct is to look for Enjolras. Their fearless leader in red, he can’t be dead, can he? Grantaire glances among the bodies, and feels a glimmer of hope as he remarks that Enjolras’ body is not among them. He stumbles towards the stairs and climbs them slowly, hoping against hope that he would find nobody here. 

His hope is torn to shreds as he beholds the body of Enjolras, pierced by too many bullets to count. His body is still lined against the wall, as if he could be alive. His head droops to stare with empty eyes at the ground. In his hand, he still clenches a red flag, his last sign of rebellion. He died a martyr, willing to fight until his last moments for the country he loved, for the freedom in which he believed so strongly. 

Grantaire allows himself to cry, mourning Enjolras, the one he had loved so dearly. His love for Enjolras had brought him here, to the barricade, and his love for Enjolras was why he stood now, mourning the leader in the red coat. 

_ I was lain among the dead.  _

Grantaire walks forward and takes Enjolras’ hand in his own. It’s still warm. He died recently. 

_ He was the one who laid me there.  _

_ He believed that I was dead.  _

_ He wanted to die for his country, believing he was the only one left- and now I am the sole survivor. Now I am the only one to live, and to remember the horrors of what we witnessed.  _

Grantaire gently slips his arm underneath Enjolras’ body and carries him down the stairs to lay him with the others. Grantaire places him on the end, where he had lain before he had awoken from his drunken slumber. Enjolras’ hands were crossed over his chest to mimic the others, and red flag still clenched in his fist. Grantaire gently unfurls Enjolras’ fingers and takes the flag in his own hands, the blood staining the edges. 

Grantaire lays down the flag to straighten Enjolras’ jacket and to fix the patch, which had fallen off while Grantaire had carried Enjolras to the first floor of the café. He gently re-pins it so that it is in plain view for anyone to behold. Grantaire reaches out his hand to close Enjolras’ eyes and to run a hand through his blond curls. He takes the flag and, standing up, he silently bids the one he loved goodbye. 

Grantaire turns to leave and walks quietly to the door, and he turns one last time to behold Enjolras upon the floor. Another tear slips gently down his face, and he strides across the Musain again to crouch beside Enjolras and press a kiss to his forehead. 

“Goodbye, Enjolras,” he whispers, his voice breaking. His breathing is shaky as he stands up and finally walks out of the Musain. 

He drags his feet as he trudges over the cobblestone, his boots becoming covered in watered-down blood. The flag, grasped in his left hand, drags behind him. People barely notice him as they commence their daily routines, trying to avoid looking others in the eye. He stops as he reaches the bridge that runs over the He raises the red flag over his head and closes his eyes. 

“Grantaire!” A voice screams out, the voice of Marius. 

It is too late. Grantaire falls. He allows himself to be enveloped by the sound of silence. 

_ This way, I can see him again. This way, I can hold him in my arms, and cry, and tell him all the things I have never said out loud.  _

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me on Tumblr, where I post Les Mis content and also short drabbles: https://soft-grantaire.tumblr.com/  
> My writing can be requested (for free) through my ask page. 
> 
> This was unintentionally named after the Simon & Garfunkel song, "The Sound of Silence". However, I did listen to the song while writing the second half of this fic.


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